


A Long Turn of the Wheel

by desperatetimes (lyricl)



Series: Make Merit while Alive [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricl/pseuds/desperatetimes
Summary: Now though, Baze's hair was longer than his mother's had been in her youth. His shoulders had grown broader through years of lifting heavy packs and weapons, and his stomach, while strong from the regimen he'd stuck with even while traveling, had a layer of fat. He was thicker, heartier, and harder. He lived in a body that Chirrut had never touched.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Baze has been away from Jedha for five years (saw somewhere that in canon he was gone for 10? Too long, vetoed). A longer backstory is in the works but Everything Is Terrible right now so here have some porn and feelings. Takes place before The Happy Song the Old Man Sings.

15 days after Baze returned to Jedha, a sudden and out of season rain fell on the city. Chirrut had asked Baze to check on Maresh, who’d had her collarbone broken by a Stormtrooper after she’d tried to stop Imperial troops from detaining her young cousin. But on his way to her building, a few minutes after the rain started, Baze ran headlong into Zanooj, her oldest son—looking like a drowned felinx—who told him that that one of the other Guardians had stopped by and made sure the bone was healing correctly. So Baze headed back to Chirrut’s quarters, completely soaked. Chirrut had apparently arrived home in time to beat the rain and was meditating in the corner. Baze knew from experience that he was probably doing a simple sound meditation, letting the noise of the water fall over him.

Baze watched Chirrut as he stripped down to his underwear and hung his soaked clothes to dry. The room was cool, but Chirrut was clad only in a sleeveless shirt and pants cinched below the knee. Baze marveled at how little he had changed, physically. His skin was still so smooth and his body deceptively lean. All the places Baze had loved to kiss, to press his face against—the soft skin on his hard stomach, the v of his hips, the sleek muscles of his arms—were the same, exactly the same. It was like no time had passed at all.

Baze, on the other hand, thought back to how he'd looked when he'd left Jedha, and it was like the memories belonged to someone else. He'd never been as lithe as Chirrut, but he'd been spare and limber like all the Guardians, his hair shorn high and tight.

Now though, his hair was longer than his mother's had been in her youth. His shoulders had grown broader through years of lifting heavy packs and weapons, and his stomach, while strong from the regimen he'd stuck with even while traveling, had a layer of fat. He was thicker, heartier, and harder. He lived in a body that Chirrut had never touched.

Finally Chirrut stirred and rose. "Hello, Baze," he said, crossing the room to grab his robe. As he passed Baze again to move into the kitchen, he clasped Baze's shoulder briefly in greeting. His steps slowed when he touched bare skin. Chirrut reached out and brushed his hand over Baze’s chest, skimming his fingers along Baze’s collarbone to his sternum.

Baze nearly gasped at the lightning strike of feeling that came over him: Chirrut might as well have grabbed him by the cock. Baze hadn’t appreciated it when he was younger, but he and Chirrut—there was such a charge between them. His throat closed up suddenly and his stomach tightened. For a long moment they both stood frozen.

They’d kissed. The day after Baze truly came home, when Chirrut had let Baze back into his bed, Baze has returned to Chirrut’s quarters at night like a dog sniffing around to see if it was welcome. Chirrut had greeted him at the door and turned his face up in that way that drove Baze crazy, like he was begging—daring!—Baze to kiss him. Five years apart couldn’t undo near 20 year of muscle memory, and so Baze had gently cupped his face and kissed him and kissed him until Chirrut wound his arms tight around Baze’s waist. They kissed for long, fuzzy minutes, as Baze used up every little trick he knew Chirrut liked—biting his full bottom lip, brushing their lips together gently, pressing deep into his mouth.

But no more than that.

“Walking naked through my house?” Chirrut asked, hand still on Baze’s bare chest.

“Perhaps you may have noticed it’s raining a bit, right now,” Baze said gruffly, still dazed from the sudden swell of feeling. “I got a little wet.” He inhaled sharply as Chirrut ran his hand down Baze’s chest to his stomach before stepping away.

“I’ll get you a robe,” Chirrut murmured. Baze tried to get himself under control. He couldn’t help the sudden torrent of memories flooding him, flashing in his mind’s eye like he was sifting through holos: Chirrut sprawled out on a mat at 20, legs spread to show Baze how he liked to touch himself. Chirrut’s hands gently holding Baze’s head as Baze finally got the hang of taking his cock into his throat at 22. Their first time, on a rooftop overlooking the city just after dusk, when Chirrut had slipped his hand into Baze’s pants and whispered, “you’re so big,” causing Baze to lose it immediately. And after, when he couldn’t stop touching Chirrut, and had felt a strange swell of joy just to be here, alive, with someone as wonderful as Chirrut lying in his arms. Baze wanted to feel that way again. He’d been wandering, alone, for five lonely years.

Some nights, after the evening meal, Chirrut made his rounds in the neighborhood, checking in on people and taking stock of who needed help. It had been Baze’s job, back when he was in charge of overseeing the Guardians’ outreach to the people of the Holy City. Tonight, though, all of NiJedha was forced inside during this monsoon-like rain storm. The streets were flooding with thick streams of rushing water, and the steady cacophony of the rain drowned out the squawks and shouts of those unlucky people caught in the downpour.

And so after a quick meal of rehydrated noodles and dried meat, Chirrut slipped off his robe and curled up under the blankets in the sleeping nook carved into the wall. Baze cleaned up the paltry mess from dinner and made sure his clothes and equipment were laid out properly to dry. Even after he'd finished what he needed to do, Baze continued to putter around the room. His stomach still felt tight, but for another reason: the shock of arousal had faded and in its wake left a peculiar nervousness. Chirrut tolerated only a few minutes of Baze's stalling before he reached out a hand to beckon Baze to the bed and said, in a low, entreating voice, "Baze..."

Force, to hear his name like that again. When his thoughts had wandered to Chirrut despite his best efforts, he'd thought of this: the way Chirrut would sprawl out on their little pallet, or on a blanket they'd brought to a remote terrace, and invite Baze with just one word to come kiss him, to make love to him the way they'd learned to do, together. Baze would replay the memories over and over, afraid that he would forget the exact tone and tenor of the way Chirrut said his name.

Baze went to Chirrut, entranced. He pulled his robe off, hung it on a hook on the wall, and slid under the covers. Everything had seemed surreal and dream-like since he and Chirrut were reunited, but now all the pieces of himself he held together so tightly were coming undone.

Chirrut slowly and silently slid his hand over Baze’s chest as he moved to straddle him, settling his weight onto Baze’s hips. He mapped Baze's shoulders, then his arms, them his stomach with his hands. His fingers glanced over new scars, the new shape of Baze's body.

Force, it was hot, it was everything Baze had wanted on the desolate nights he’d let himself think of Chirrut. But Baze found he couldn’t quite dispel a strange, nervous energy that overtaken him. He was anxious. He wasn’t hard.

"Chirrut, I—" he didn't know how to continue. Chirrut, as was often the case, was just as content to let the silence sit when Baze was eager to talk as he was to keep on talking when Baze would rather not. After a long period of silence, he spoke suddenly, his flippant tone a sharp contrast from his earlier entreaty for Baze to join him in bed.

"Did take many lovers, on your travels? Surely you met a lot of interesting people. You haven't told me yet." Baze was caught off guard.

“I—no, I didn't...I..."

"I did." Chirrut stopped the little grinding movements he was doing when he didn't get the reaction he obviously wanted. Baze was still off balance, unsure how to get back to the moment in the kitchen. "Well, not lots. But enough."

"I suppose that's one good thing that came of your leaving." Chirrut's voice—so even and diffident when facing down irate temple masters, belligerent non-believers, and Stormtroopers— was starting to lose its glib tone. Chirrut may have had a faith that Baze considered naive, but he'd always insisted on stating the toughest truths the most plainly. "If you had stayed, we would have had only each other our whole lives. No one else would have ever touched you—“

"No one—there was no one,” Baze gasped, unable to bear this and brought suddenly out of his stupor. "No one has touched me. No one but you, Chirrut." This wasn’t strictly true. He’d had a few grim, drunken encounters: sad, half-finished hand jobs in the dark. But no one had _touched_ him. No one had made love to him the way Chirrut did, his naked body pressed fully to Baze’s. Baze tipped his head back and clenched his eyes shut against the tears suddenly leaking out. "Chirrut, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Chirrut didn’t say anything for a long time. Baze heard his throat working and knew that Chirrut was also struggling to control himself. Chirrut brought his hand on Baze’s cheek and gently wiped away the tears. Overcome, Baze grabbed Chirrut’s hand and kissed his palm, his knuckles. “You were gone so long,” Chirrut whispered. What could he say? He pulled Chirrut down to lie on top of him with his face tucked into Baze's neck.

Sadness came over him in waves, so strong he felt nauseous. He clutched Chirrut tighter, pressing kisses to the top of his head. Five years of denied longing, five years of locking a part of himself away. He couldn’t bear to think about what it must have been like for Chirrut.

The press of Chirrut against his chest comforted Baze, deeply. He felt the anguish receding, as if he were exhaling a little more pain with each breath. Chirrut, attentive as always to Baze’s moods, raised his head. ”I knew I was out of practice, but I didn't think I'd drive you to tears,” he said. Baze's laugh felt like the first breath after being trapped in an open airlock. He laughed and laughed, while Chirrut giggled down at him.

Chirrut leaned down to kiss him, and when he shifted his hips to resettle himself Baze found the laughter had unlocked something in him. Heat spread from between his legs up his stomach and chest, until he felt warm all over. He couldn’t wait to touch Chirrut, to learn his body again and bring him pleasure. He ran his hands up and down Chirrut’s firm thighs and his muscular back.

“You’re just acting sad so I’ll suck your cock first,” Chirrut whispered, mouth close to Baze’s. He reached down to unzip Baze’s pants and rub him over his underclothes.

“You just said you’re out of practice…Are you sure you remember what you’re doing down there?” Baze retorted.

“I think I remember the general principle,” Chirrut mused, starting to clumsily pat down Baze’s groin like he was learning a new shape. “I’m supposed to use my teeth, right?”

Baze snorted, and Chirrut cracked up too, until they were giggling like young initiates. “No, now I remember…as dry as possible, that’s what you like. Let me go get some sand from outside—“ By now Baze was tearing up again, this time from laughter.

“I did miss this though,” Chirrut said, pulling off Baze’s shorts.

“This? You missed my dick? Or me?” Baze was still amused.

“I missed you,” Chirrut said, before adding, “and also your cock.” Baze’s laugh became a stuttering gasp as Chirrut twisted his hand over the head of his cock.

“I missed taking you in my hand,” Chirrut said, kissing Baze in between speaking, “In my mouth. Inside me.”

“Chirrut,” Baze murmured, clutching at Chirrut’s ass, “take these off.” Force, Baze wanted to make him come, see the look on his face and hear his little moans and whimpers. He wanted to hear Chirrut gasp out his name. He missed the way Chirrut would sometimes beg for Baze to pin down his wrists, to put his hand around his throat or grab a fistful of his hair while he fucked him from behind. He missed the way Chirrut would come so hard his whole body would seize, while Baze stared down at his ecstatic face knowing that he was the architect of Chirrut’s pleasure—

But Chirrut had other plans. Once he was naked, he twined himself around Baze, pulling him onto his side until they were pressed up against each other, their heads on the same pillow and their face just inches apart. Chirrut threw a leg over Baze's hip and reached down to grab his cock in his sure, warm grip.

"Do you remember, what we used to do sometimes?" he said, softly, slyly, as he started to work his hand up and down over the head of Baze's cock just like he liked.

"We did a lot of things," said Baze, stroking Chirrut's thigh, lingering over his ass. Force, he loved Chirrut's legs. "And I remember all of them."

Chirrut leaned in to kiss him, humming in pleasure. "You're right. We were very creative for two people raised in a monastery." Baze laughed.

"Something specific you're thinking of?" At his words, Chirrut slid his other hand down to tug on Baze's balls, surprising a groan out of Baze. His body and mind were confused at this sudden flood of familiar pleasure. He stared at Chirrut's handsome face, drinking it in, then stared down at Chirrut's hand on his cock, then back to Chirrut's face.

"Yes," Chirrut murmured. "Do you remember how I used to touch you, on nights when we had hours free to ourselves? I used to work you right to the edge over and over until you begged me to let you come."

Baze couldn't help the sound he made at the memory. Stars, did he remember. How could he forget: Chirrut sitting on his thighs, working his cock until Baze thought he would pass out from the pain/pleasure of it. Lube everywhere, all over Baze's stomach and legs, on Chirrut's hands up to the wrist. A few times, Chirrut had worked him even after he'd come, and on these wonderful, terrible nights he'd actually come a second time, clenching the blankets so tightly overhead that his hands hurt for two days after. Chirrut's hands had been covered in come and oil, and Baze had watched in a daze as Chirrut finished himself off, adding to the mess between Baze's thighs. Baze had felt raw and vulnerable after, had needed Chirrut to wipe them both down and then tuck himself around Baze, cooing about how wonderful he'd looked and how happy he made Chirrut.

"I remember," Baze said, as Chirrut rubbed his nose affectionately against Baze's. "You want that?" He'd do anything Chirrut asked.

"I liked it," Chirrut said. "I liked...feeling like you were mine. I liked your surrender." Baze's breath caught. He'd slipped out of time and was hovering somewhere between the memory and the present. Between the man who'd promised never to leave Chirrut's side and the man who'd returned after abandoning him.

"The way the Force moved around you. Your love for me, your pleasure...It was pulsing, gushing out of you," Chirrut whispered. "It was like the clouds on the horizon in the desert, during a lightning storm."

“Chirrut—"

"Baze," Chirrut cut him off and flipped over, pressing himself back against Baze. "I changed my mind. Between my thighs. I want you to fuck me. Like when we were young."

“A—alright. Yes, darling, alright." He couldn't help the endearment. At Chirrut's urging he dug a tube of lubricant out from the little cubby beside the bed and spent several minutes slicking up the inside of Chirrut's thighs and ass. He could do that all day, gently stroking Chirrut’s most sensitive parts. He snugged his cock between Chirrut's legs and pulled him tight to his body, one arm around him and one supporting his head, so he could whisper right into his ear.

"You going to let me play with you a little, first?" he said, gently easing Chirrut's hand off his own cock. "You're so hard already.”

"Yes," Chirrut said, softly, as Baze started to stroke him.

“I missed you,” Baze said, kissing and biting the back of his neck, “Force, I missed you so much.”

"Baze," Chirrut gasped, exactly like Baze had imagined.

"Stars, your body," Baze groaned, unable to resist little, unsatisfying thrusts as he worked Chirrut's cock harder. "You're so beautiful."

"Fuck me, Baze, please, do it." Chirrut pulled Baze's hand off his cock and brought it up to his chest, urging Baze to hold him. Chirrut tightened his legs around Baze's cock as Baze ground against him.

"Do you feel good, Chirrut?" Baze asked, watching Chirrut touch himself. "Does that feel good, darling?"

"Yes," Chirrut said, turning a little more so that Baze almost covered him completely. Baze pulled the blankets up so they were cocooned in the warm little cave of the bed, sheltered by the white noise of the pounding rain outside. They clutched at each other as they moved, murmuring encouragement. Baze was glad Chirrut had chosen this, the way they used to make love at 18. They thought they'd invented it themselves, finding pleasure all wrapped up in each other.

"Chirrut, I'm going to come," Baze said, grabbing Chirrut's thigh to pull his legs even tighter. It was so slick, so warm and soft. He was going to come all over Chirrut. "And after I do I want you to finish in my mouth, okay—I—Chirrut, I—I—” He let out a great groan as he came, his balls squeezing so tight his vision went black for an instant. He realized he was nearly crushing Chirrut, but Chirrut was clinging so tightly to his arm he figured he didn't mind. He thrust a few more times in the mess between Chirrut's legs as he came down from the high: he hadn't come like that in five years. Nearly six, considering he and Chirrut had barely touched each other the awful six months before he left Jedha. He felt drunk.

Baze pulled Chirrut to lie on his back and slid down his body, pressing the inside of his thighs to encourage him to spread his legs as much as his impressive flexibility would allow. Chirrut was panting above him, head flung back and hands gently moving over his own stomach, his chest and nipples.

Baze couldn't wait. He swallowed down as much of Chirrut's cock as he could, just to feel it in his mouth and throat again, before pulling back to work the sensitive head. The noises filling Chirrut's room were obscene: Chirrut's little groans of pleasure amidst the wet, eager sounds of Baze's mouth on Chirrut's cock.

Baze felt the telltale quiver at the base of Chirrut's prick just as Chirrut said, "Baze, I'm going to—“ Baze pulled off just long enough to say, "yes, come in my mouth, Chirrut," before returning to working Chirrut's cock tight and fast. Chirrut's thighs shifted restlessly under Baze’s hands while he gasped Baze's name over and over (just like Baze wanted, just like Baze had dreamed of for five years), until he came so hard his stomach clenched and brought his shoulders clean off the bed.

Baze swallowed it all and gently worked Chirrut through his orgasm before pressing his face, as he had longed to do, against Chirrut's lovely stomach. Chirrut ran his hands over Baze's now wild hair until Baze stirred and wiped them both down with his discarded shorts.

After they'd rearranged themselves with Baze resting his head on Chirrut's chest, they lay in silence as they had earlier. Once again it was Chirrut who broke the spell, but this time it was not with a joke, but a plea he could not longer hold back. “Don’t—don't leave me again, Baze. Or if you're going to do it, do it now. I can't do it again, Baze, I won’t—" Chirrut was breathing hard and clutching at Baze's shoulders,working himself into a very out of character panic.

"I won't, Chirrut, I swear to you. Chirrut," Baze said helplessly. "I know I—I know I promised you before, and I know you have no reason to believe me now, but Chirrut—“ He pressed his forehead to Chirrut's. "I ran as far as I could from Jedha. I traveled the whole galaxy. And it brought me back to you." The Force brought me back to you, he would have said once, five years ago. But he couldn't say it now. If he was going to stay, he couldn't bring that lie into their bed. Chirrut would have to live with this Baze. The Baze who looked different. Who had abandoned Chirrut. Who had returned, without warning. And who had left his faith along with the old Baze, in the ruins of their once happy life.

"All is as the Force wills it," Chirrut said, slowing his breathing, "all is as the Force wills it." Calm now, he said to Baze, "you're right. You did return. Who knows what the future holds? We only have today. You're here now. And I'm trying..." He hesitated, as he always had with any admission of doubt or weakness, since he'd lost his sight so young. "I'm trying not to be angry, with you."

"Chirrut," Baze said, tracing the lines of Chirrut's beloved face with his thumb, "it's alright to be angry. You should be angry. I—I left—“

"Shh," Chirrut shushed him and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Baze relished the feel of his soft lips, the way he could never just kiss Baze once. "Enough talk for tonight, yes? We'll both be here in the morning."

“Yes, in the morning maybe you can give me one of those special sandy blowjobs—“ Baze easily caught the hand that Chirrut flung at him, and pressed a kiss to it as he settled down to sleep.

"Welcome back," Chirrut murmured.

"Glad to be home," said Baze.


End file.
